One Problem
by Trapezoidal
Summary: ...Ratchet is kind of...occupied.


_"Ratchet's facial expression/SparkSpeak."_

. . .

The little ball of white and burnt orange planted on the scorched floor in front of three Autobots had a look that plainly screamed_, "TURN ME BACK BEFORE I TURN YOU INTO SPARE PARTS!"_

Otherwise known as normal Ratchet talk. Er...yell.

Arcee was thankful Fowler was absent. If he had been there, he would have been all over their afts with excuses about the explosion being harmful to the humans in a nearby town, a threat to national security, etc.

Cliffjumper was the first to break the tense silence. "...Hatchet?" he asked tentatively.

The sparkling glared at him and proceeded to click and shriek angrily in his direction as if to say, _"WHO THE PIT _ELSE_ WOULD I FRAGGIN' BE?!" _

"That's Ratchet," Bulkhead confirmed, flinching at the sparkling's shrill volume.

The sparkling went quiet for a moment and frowned, looking down at himself, back up at the three bots present, then back at himself and clicked in a deadly, threatening manner which got the point across even if they couldn't directly understand him_. _He seemed to growl in dislike.

_"I hate you all." _

He glared in the mechs' directions.

Arcee dared take a few steps forward and lift their medic-turned-sparkling up. The sparkling was a bit bigger than her servo.

Ratchet looked like he considered ranting at her, but only sighed, his wide, innocent, blue optics dimming.

Before snapping wide and bright again. He looked up at Arcee with a wanting look and pointed at what had been his favorite throwing wrench.

"You want the...wrench?"

Ratchet clicked irritably. _"What do you _think_, femme?" _

"Take that as a yes," Arcee mumbled as she crossed the now black floor, which was also covered in debris from the explosion, and lifted up said tool. "This one?"

Ratchet reached for it, nodding tiredly.

Even if Arcee didn't think it was the safest toy, this _was_Ratchet. He wrapped his arms around the wrench so tightly it would have strangled a Cybertronian.

That was when Optimus decided to show up.

Knowing that his soldiers wouldn't be in major trouble since he hadn't recieved a comm., he walked in on a strange sight, moreso than many things he had laid optics on.

Arcee was holding a somewhat familiar wrench-wielding sparkling in the middle of a, basically, devestated control room while Cliffjumper and Bulkhead simply looked guilty.

Optimus blinked a few times to make sure his optics weren't malfunctioning. (It wouldn't be the first time.) "What...is going on?"

It didn't seem to do anything except remind the sparkling to open his big blue optics again.

Ratchet rubbed the recharge away_. "Oh, look. There's Optimus,"_ he clicked to himself. There was no use in _just _thinking, he knew no one could understand him now_. "Good luck explaining, slaggers." _He yawned and looked at Bulkhead and Cliffjumper expectantly, still keeping a death grip on his wrench.

"Is that...Ratchet?"

Ratchet vented. Optimus could be so fraggin' _slow _on the uptake sometimes.

_"Puh-lease, Optimus. Do I look like Bumblebee to you?"_

The wheels seemed to start turning again, taking everyone with them.

"-it was their fault-"

"-SHE STARTED IT!-"

"-I didn't know it would _explode_-"

"Quiet!" Everyone went silent, except for Ratchet, who was clicking, if anything, smugly. (_"I told you to stop, glitches, but you wouldn't listen, now _did _you?"_) Optimus looked at Arcee. "What _exactly _happened?"

"Cliff and Bulkhead were lobbing while Ratchet was working on one of his experiments and the sphere slipped out of someone's servo and long story short, we now have a bot younger than Cliffjumper's developement age." She looked like she might continue, but ended up shrugging ineffectually.

Apparently, Arcee had said the wrong thing. Ratchet let out an indignant whirr. _"Are you fraggin' kidding- Cliffjimper! You sonnuva glitch, give me back my wrench!" _

"Should we let him have this?" Cliff held the tool out at an arm's length.

Ratchet let out a string of angry beeps, whirrs and clicks.

Then it dawned on him he didn't have a third-frame vocoder, he had a Sparkling one.

Everyone's servos went to their audios when the sparkling let out a shrill, audio-breaking scream, except for Arcee, who didn't seem to mind.

Ratchet blinked pleasantly and smirked when all optics went to him in surprise and disdain. _"Payback, you afts." _

Said femme looked at them and cluelessly asked once the onslaught of noise stopped, "What are you doing? I've heard worse than this. _Scrap_, I _did _worse than this when I was a sparkling."

Cliffjumper and Bulkhead piped up at the same time. "Bye!"

. . .

It was official. The mechs were cowards. Even Optimus, bearer of the Matrix and the mech who had faced down Megatron various times, didn't have the circuits to care for a Ratchet sparkling. Suddenly, they all had something else to do, leaving Arcee to care for the little ball of joy.

_Cowards_.

There was a hiss as the sliding door opened.

"Prime!" Fowler's angry voice rebounded throughout the main room of the Autobot base.

. . .

**Well...um. Here we are again. This will not be continued- it was just a drabble my brain decided I need to get down. And since I want to delete everything that is useless...this was included. ****This was kind of before-bedtime crack. Yeah. Go vote on the poll on my profile, people! I want to know what's worth writing!**

**Disclaimer: C is for Crack, which you can probably call this. I don't own Transformers. I am merely using them for entertainment and do not make any profit from this story. **


End file.
